Jacob Michaels Is... The Omnibus Edition: A Point Worth LGBTQ Paranormal Romance Books 1 - 6

by Chase Connor

  “I hardly knew you in high school.” It was a dumb thing to say.

  “I didn’t care.” He said quickly. “I still wanted you.”

  “Why?”

  He just stared at me.

  “That’s what I thought.” I started to turn away.

  “Because,” He said forcefully making me turn back, then he cleared his throat, “because you were the most talented guy I’d ever seen. Because you treated everyone nicely. Because you were kind. And because…”

  All I could do was wait.

  “Because you didn’t talk to me like I was just a football player.”

  I kept my eyes on his for several moments.

  “Oma said she tried setting you up before,” I said lowly. “Who…exactly…did she try setting you up with?”

  “Just some guy from the center.” He shrugged. “I hadn’t wanted her to because, well…”

  “You’re in the closet.”

  “Kind of.”

  “And you got mad because she was trying to ease you out?” I asked. “Is that why she said you got upset?”

  “Sort of.”

  “What was it exactly?” I grumbled.

  He looked up, blushing.

  “Because when she said she had someone she wanted to set me up with, I had heard you were gay in the magazines, and when she said she was setting me up with someone, well, I thought maybe you were coming to visit, and…but it wasn’t you. And it really disappointed me. I wasn’t upset. I was disappointed.”

  “You know that sounds completely psychotic, right?”

  “A little.”

  “You barely know me.”

  “Well, I know you now.” He said with a smile.

  “We got drunk and had dinner one night and acted like a couple of silly teenagers.” I frowned. “You don’t know the first thing about me, Lucas. I’m an extremely famous actor and rock star…that sounds douchey, but I’m just making a point…and highly trained in publicity. Do you think you’ll ever learn anything real about me unless I want you to?”

  “Are you really looking to settle down?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Are you looking for a kind, funny, loyal guy who wants to travel with you and devote himself to you? Live the rest of his life with you?”

  “Well, yes, but…”

  “What other prerequisites can there be?”

  “For one, he can’t have just run over my actual date!”

  “Hit. Not run over.”

  “Semantics again!”

  He rolled his eyes but looked chastened. Even that made me want to pull him into me and do vile, disrespectful things to him with my hands, mouth, and other parts.

  “Don’t you want me?” He blushed. “I think that maybe you want me as much as I want you, but you’re holding back.”

  “Of course I am, you asshole!” I sounded like Oma. “When a guy I was on a date with turns into a werewolf and gets hit by a car, and I get splattered with his blood, it’s a good time to take a step back and say ‘maybe I need to rethink some life choices here,’ Lucas! Not fuck the first guy who comes along!”

  “So…you do want me?”

  “You are so goddamn annoying!” I growled.

  We both just looked at each other. He was staring impassively, I was glaring at him, trying to control my most carnal self. Lucas’ honey-tan skin, his defined chest and abs, his strong arms, those gilded jade eyes…everything about him was drawing me in, telling me to ignore the little voice in my head. I had needed a guy like Lucas—sex—for so long. My body wanted me to give in and give myself over to my most basic needs.

  “Oh, fuck it,” I grumbled hoarsely.

  I rushed Lucas again and pulled him into me. This time he was waiting to move into my body as well. Our bodies crushed against each other as our mouths found each other again. Lucas hands went immediately to the front of my shirt and start undoing buttons. I moaned against his mouth as he pulled my shirt off of me and explored the bare flesh of my chest and stomach with his fingers, desperately, eagerly.

  My hand slid between us and slipped inside the front of his jeans and Lucas groaned against my mouth, his eyes opening in shock and yearning as I stroked him. I took his bottom lip between my teeth gently, my eyes on his, then I was kissing him again, our tongues battling as I continued the movements of my hand. Lucas’ body reacted to my stroking and my mouth on his as we did our best to make our bodies one right there in the middle of his living room.

  Then we were on the floor, and Lucas was on top of me, kissing at my neck as his hands undid my pants. His mouth moved to my chin, the front of my throat, then sucked at the flesh on either side of my neck. Then he was pulling me out of my pants, and his mouth was on my chest. He moved lower, his tongue and lips tasting the flesh of my chest, my stomach, and then I felt him take me into his mouth. I screamed out in pleasure as his mouth sucked at me and his head bobbed up and down as my fingers wound their way through the dark silk on his head.

  Lucas was then under me, and I was repeating his actions, doing my best to bring him to the brink with my mouth, lips, tongue, and fingers. Both pairs of our pants got kicked off somehow, and we were both naked and writhing on the floor, going after each other’s bodies like wild animals. Lucas seemed utterly out of control, lost entirely to some unfulfilled desire as we practically consumed each other’s bodies right there on the wood floor of his living room.

  Then I was inside of Lucas. Then he was inside of me. For what seemed like hours we explored every inch of each other, back and forth, slowly building, then pulling back, building some more. When I thought that neither of us could take the pleasure of each other’s bodies much longer, we’d pull back just enough to prolong this encounter. Finally, after what seemed like hours, but still not long enough, we both climaxed, screaming out in euphoria. When we finally collapsed on the floor, we were both panting like wild animals, sweat sealing our bodies together.

  We lay on the floor, wrapped up in a tangle of arms and legs, panting, trying to get our breath back as our hearts thundered in our chests. My body was telling me that this had been the most explosive sexual encounter of my life. No one understood my body and how it worked like Lucas did. He had known every part of my body that was the most sensitive, the most erogenous, the most delicate…everything that drove me crazy in the best of ways.

  When we finally calmed down, our breathing controlled and our hearts no longer galloping like horses within our chests, Lucas laid his head next to mine, staring at me. He leaned forward and kissed the side of my face. Then he moved to my lips and kissed me gently, his damp hair tickling my forehead as I kissed him back, my hand rising to caress the side of his face. He looked me in the eyes, his gilded jade eyes looking so soft and kind, and I wanted to do it all over again.

  And that was confusing as Hell.

  I didn’t do these things.

  I didn’t have sex with guys I barely knew.

  I had just seen a werewolf.

  Everything in my life had been turned upside down in the matter of an evening, and now I was laying with a virtual stranger on his living room floor after having just had the best sex of my life. Not that there was a lot to compare it to—but it still came out on top. I sighed contentedly, pushing every other thought to the back of my head as Lucas placed a gentle kiss on my chest, then laid his head down upon it.

  My date had been a werewolf.

  I still had some of his blood on me.

  Oma was a witch.

  And I had just had sex with Lucas.

  Did I love him?

  Processing any of that information was too much for one person in such a short amount of time. How can one go from leading a seemingly normal life—even though being famous is never normal—and suddenly find out that werewolves are real? That their grandmother is a witch? That some guy they thought was going to be their straight best friend was actually a gay guy who had been pining for them for at least ten years? Lucas was suddenly asleep against my chest, his arms wrapped around me. A
nd the sun was rising outside. I closed my eyes and decided to sleep. Everything could wait for a few hours.

  Chapter 1

  I had come home and hadn’t felt so bad about myself for once during my life as a teenager. Face no longer riddled with acne, hair no longer greasy after eight hours in my sophomore classes, pits, groin, and happy trail had a dusting of hair, and my voice no longer squeaked when I talked. My body was filling out so that I wasn’t gangly and lanky. My alto voice had settled into a range somewhere between a tenor and a bass, though I could still hit relatively high notes in the choir. Girls were starting to take notice, though that just fed my ego since I genuinely wasn’t interested. Settling into my looks had a profound effect on my life in general, regardless.

  When I auditioned for plays, I got the lead. When I tried out in choir, I got the solos. My guitar playing was getting better. When I talked to other people in my classes or in the hallways, or just…anywhere…they wouldn’t treat me like I was invisible. I was becoming very visible. It was overwhelming but in good ways. Though, in other ways, it was disconcerting. Popular kids wanted to be my friend, and unpopular kids wanted to be my friend. Other people hated me while others emulated me. I just wanted to be Robbie Wagner—but also sing and act in the school choir and plays. Everyone else had other expectations of me. I was starting to look decent, so, of course, that meant I had to behave a certain way.

  It was all exciting and thrilling…and exhausting.

  When I got home from school, I dropped my backpack by the door and kicked my shoes off. Oma had immediately yelled at me to not “leave my shit right out in the goddamn open where any asshole could trip over it.” I loved my Oma. She was colorful and fun and, regardless of her language, kind. She was also incredibly embarrassing. The few real friends I had loved coming over to hang out simply because of the floor show. Their parents didn’t like the new words that they came home with, but that didn’t deter Oma.

  Rolling my eyes, I had scooped up my bag and shoes and headed up the stairs towards my bedroom. In the upstairs hallway, I still felt the pull to walk to the end of the hall and go sit in the room that had belonged to my parents. Somehow, I ignored the instinct, just like I always did. I wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. Inside my bedroom, I set my backpack next to my little desk I used for doing homework and then put my shoes in my closet. I didn’t need Oma getting onto me for leaving things unorganized and untidy.

  Freshly laundered clothes were folded and laid out on my bed, so I took a few minutes to put those away. Oma went to the trouble of washing my clothes, the least I could do was put them away. I even ignored the movement in my peripheral vision as I put clothes in dresser drawers and hung shirts in the closet. The shadows were there from time to time, in the corners, peeking out of the closets and cubbyholes, dashing into cupboards and the pantry, slipping under pieces of furniture. It was just what life was like living in Oma’s house.

  Oma didn’t like to be questioned about it, and if I gathered the courage to ask, I was told: “maybe in a few years.” I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I trusted my Oma. I believed in her. I knew that she was old and wise and would take care of me, especially once my parents were gone, so I revered her word. Her word was law, and her law was love. Why question such a thing?

  So, I picked up after myself, did chores, did my homework, tried to be a good grandson, and I ignored the things that I never could quite lay eyes upon that scurried about the house. It was none of my business. At least not for a few more years. I could live with that. Even at night, when I could swear that something was crawling into the bed and curling up by my feet, I closed my eyes tightly, reminded myself that I could never be in danger. Oma wouldn’t have allowed that. She would protect me. So…I just shut my eyes tightly and went to sleep. After a while, I barely even noticed when something laid down against my feet as I was drifting off to sleep. It was almost as comforting as knowing that I had Oma, even though I didn’t have my parents anymore.

  Oma’s house was where I felt safe.

  When I awoke, the room was bright with mid-morning sunlight. My eyes scrunched up as I yawned deeply and started to move my arms. I couldn’t move my right arm, it was numb, and it felt like the world was standing upon it. I started to panic as my eyes shot open but then I saw the reason for the heaviness and numbness in my arm. Lucas was still pressed against my side, his arms wrapped around me, his head on my chest, and my right arm was still stuck underneath him. Both of us were as naked as the day we were born, which made me feel like I should be embarrassed and cover myself. But then flashes of all of the things we had done to each other hours previously came back to me, and I realized that being naked was the last thing that should embarrass me.

  Heat rose to my cheeks as I thought of all of the things I’d allowed Lucas to do to my body and all of the things I’d done to him. Not that sex was shameful…but I barely knew Lucas. I had behaved like a sex-crazed, lovesick idiot with no regard for my health and well-being. I’d simply let my most basic needs overtake me and had fallen into the moment. I never did that. Even as a rock star and actor, my image, personality, behavior, everything was controlled down to each and every step that I took. I never deviated from how I wanted to present myself to the world. Because the way I presented myself to the world was indeed who I was deep down. Jacob Michaels, er, Robert Wagner, well, Rob Wagner, if I had my say about things, was a good guy.

  Okay. Maybe I was looking through the wrong lens at things. Having sex with someone doesn’t make a person bad, per se. People aren’t sluts and whores and players just because they enjoy sex. But…it just wasn’t me. I’d never just fallen into bed with someone whom I had only known for a week. Especially one with whom I’d never actually had a date. I laid there on the floor, my shoulder blades starting to ache against the wood floors of Lucas’ living room. However, I didn’t want to move because moving meant that Lucas would wake up and then we would talk. I wasn’t too sure that I was ready for talking, especially after everything that had transpired the night before.

  Andrew had been a complete and unforgivable douchebag. He had been insufferable over dinner and had practically assaulted me in his car on the way home afterward. After punching Andrew to get him to stop trying to touch my…naughty bits…I had gotten out of the car and slammed the car door so violently that I had broken the window. When Andrew had followed me…

  Werewolf.

  How was that even possible? How had I watched a human man turn into a fucking werewolf? I couldn’t even wrap my mind around the possibility that werewolves were actually a thing, even though I had seen it with my own eyes. What is visible doesn’t need evidence, but I still doubted that I wasn’t just completely mental and had imagined the whole thing. But Lucas had plowed into Andrew with his truck, brought me back to his house, and we had had sex. A lot of sex. And here I was, laying on the floor of his living room, completely nude and wrapped up in his arms and legs. Surely that was further proof that I hadn’t imagined the night before. If I could discount my memory, I couldn’t ignore the fact that Lucas and I were, in fact, laying on his living floor completely nude.

  “Good morning.” I jerked slightly at the sound of Lucas’ voice.

  I looked down at my former sexual partner to see his eyes lazily opening and his mouth turning up into a content smile.

  “Good morning,” I answered simply.

  “Did you sleep well?” He asked.

  Lucas seemed so happy. So content. Like the previous night hadn’t affected him in the slightest. Like werewolves and attempted murder—well, okay, he hadn’t been trying to kill Andrew, just fend him off—and then sex with a virtual stranger was just a typical Saturday for him. Maybe it was? I mean, how much did I know about Lucas? I only knew what he had told me—and you can never be sure about what goes on inside a person’s head unless they are willing to tell the truth. And how does one validate the truth if one isn’t a witness to the things they’re told?

  “I guess so.” I
nodded.

  Lucas leaned up, his lips moving towards mine. Without a trace of enthusiasm, I pursed my lips and greeted his. But I didn’t close my eyes or lean into the kiss. I simply let it happen.

  “Are you hungry?” Lucas asked, his lips finding my jaw, then my chest.

  I allowed Lucas to plant kisses on my skin a few times before interrupting him.

  “Can you stop?” I asked gently.

  Lucas tilted his head to look up at me.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Really?” I gave a nervous laugh. “I mean, come on, Lucas…”

  He chewed at his lip.

  “Okay.” He shrugged against me and finally raised his body enough so that I could slide my arm out from underneath him. Pins and needles ran along it. “I know what’s wrong. But…can’t we just enjoy this moment a little longer, Rob?”

  I just stared at him.

  “I don’t know what this moment is.” I shook my head and slid away from him, finally rising to a seat position. “I don’t know what anything is right now, Lucas.”

  Lucas sat up beside me, a frown forming.

  “We made love.”

  It was my turn to frown.

  “What?”

  “Is that what that was?” I asked. “I thought it was just two idiots throwing caution to the wind and doing something reckless.”

  “Do you regret it?”

  I chewed at my lip. Did I?

  “No,” I answered honestly, I thought. “But I also feel like I should. I mean…look at us for God’s sake.”

  I gestured at our naked bodies as we sat beside each other there on the floor. If two guys sitting completely naked on the floor—two guys who barely knew each other—wasn’t something to cause concern, then I didn’t know what was. Was this just a sexual encounter to get over the trauma of what had happened in an evening? Was it sex, comfort…love?

  “Did you enjoy it?” Lucas looked away shyly.